


Jealousy

by kitsunequeen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-Slash, restaurant AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 13:39:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2509757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunequeen/pseuds/kitsunequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Remind me why I’m here with you again?”<br/>“Because Scott’s stuck with his dad, your betas need a day off for once, and I am a genius, which you totally need,” Stiles beams. </p><p>OR</p><p>The one where Stiles and Derek end up at a restaurant to do research. It might not be a date, but Stiles is determined to get one...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealousy

“That’s a cool shirt,” Stiles remarks, biting down on his straw.

“Cooler than Batman,” Derek grumbles, jutting his chin at Stiles’ graphic tee.

“Woah dude, no need for the hostility. I was being serious,” Stiles says, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Oh,” Derek shrugs. “Thanks. Erica picked it out. Thumb holes. Not really my style but-"

“But you can’t dress like you’re in a motorcycle gang all the time?” Stiles asks innocently.

“I do _not_ dress like I’m in a motorcycle gang.”

“I know of at least six leather jackets that would beg to differ.”

Derek huffs indignantly but doesn’t respond, only pulls out his phone, presumably to do more research on the monster they were after. Stiles finds himself staring at Derek as he reads his screen. It _is_ a nice shirt. Mainly because it defines his muscles, yet the dark red cotton seems fuzzy and inviting. Unfortunately, the exact opposite of Derek’s personality.

It’s hard not to wish that they were at this diner for a date instead of needing somewhere to do research while Peter was in the loft. Stiles’ eyes move from Derek’s torso, tracing their way along his biceps and up to his face. His downcast eyes are a beautiful bright green that change to a glowing blue when he wolfs out- Stiles decides to ignore the disturbing reason and just enjoy the color. His jawline is ridiculously strong and covered in stubble that somehow makes him look both sharp and also like he just hadn’t bothered to shave for two days. His hair is spiked up as usual, in his patented I-don’t-care-what-my-hair-looks-like-because-I-always-look-good-way. Stiles is pretty sure he could stare at that face for hours on end.

Derek sends that thought crashing to a halt by suddenly looking up and saying, “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” Stiles echoes.

“You’re staring at me.”

“I- I wasn’t staring…” he can feel the blush creeping onto his cheeks. Derek rolls his eyes.

“What is it? Is there something on my face?”

“Yeah I uh- I think maybe you cut yourself shaving or something,” Stiles says, gladly diving at the excuse.

Derek raises an eyebrow. “I haven’t shaved in a week.”

 _A week, not two days_ , Stiles makes a mental note, trying and failing not to feel like a creep. “Well maybe you… I don’t know, got in a fight or something. I don’t know what you werewolves do. None of my business,” he rambles.

“I’m gonna ignore your heartbeat and the fact that you constantly make it your business to know exactly what we werewolves do, ‘cause I don’t really have time for this. Look what I found,” Derek says, passing him his phone.

Stiles takes it, grateful for any change in conversation. “What is this thing?” he asks, looking at the huge, fanged creature on the screen.

“I think that’s what we’re dealing with. It’s called a hellhound. They’re-“

“A hellhound? As in a hellhound, hellhound? Like satan’s lapdogs?” Stiles interrupts.

“Of course not,” Derek rolls his eyes- which Stiles tries to find totally unattractive- and says, “Those aren’t real, Stiles.”

“Oh I’m sorry, Mr. Werewolf. How silly of me to consider that there might be such a thing as hellhounds. I don’t know what I could’ve been thinking.”

“Will you keep your voice down,” Derek hisses, glancing around nervously. When no dagger-wielding hunters launch themselves at his throat, he continues, “They’re just called hellhounds because they look like giant dogs, and hundreds of years ago hellhound seemed like a pretty accurate description. They’re cousins of the werewolf, but they don’t have a human side.”

“So just… really big dogs?”

“With venomous fangs and claws and a thirst for blood. But sure, really big dogs.”

Their waitress comes over and puts a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Hey honey, so that was the last Coke,” she flicks her free hand in Stiles’ direction, while the other one traces it’s way down Derek’s arm, making Stiles cringe. “You want me to get you something else?”

“No, I’m fine,” Derek says, frowning. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” she says, wistfully retracting her fingers and heading back into the kitchen.

“Alright, this time I’m gonna need an answer. Why are you making that face?” Derek huffs.

“Just wondering if you’re able to leave the house without someone flirting with you.”

“She wasn’t flirting,” Derek mutters.

“Oh, my god. You’re joking right?” Stiles laughs.

Derek frowns.

“Oh I’m so sorry honey. Can I get you something else? A lemonade? A make out session?” Stiles mocks in a falsetto.

“That’s not what she said,” Derek says flatly.

“It was implied. You’re just really oblivious.” And Stiles should know, he’d been trying to flirt for weeks.

“Remind me why I’m here with you again?”

“Because Scott’s stuck with his dad, your betas need a day off for once, and I am a genius, which you totally need,” Stiles beams. “You’re just grouchy cuz you didn’t get your Coke. Here,” he pulls the wrapper off a second straw and drops it into his drink. “Share mine.”

Derek’s face contorts into an unreadable expression, that Stiles takes as disdain. “You want me to share your drink?”

Stiles can feel his cheeks get hot and hopes Derek isn’t listening in on his heartbeat. He’s determined to play it cool, though, and says, “Yeah. You afraid of getting cooties? Because I’ve seen you rip out a wolf’s throat before, and I’m pretty sure once you do that, any concerns of germs should be thrown to the wind.”

“I- it’s not- it’s nothing. Thanks,” Derek mutters, taking a sip.

“Good,” Stiles says. They spend two hours sitting at the table formulating their plan. Stiles is pretty sure the only reason they hadn’t been kicked out yet is because the waitress was still drooling over Derek. Well, it was good to know Derek’s looks were good for something aside from torturing Stiles.

“You wanna get going?” Derek offers tiredly.

“Yep,” Stiles says, fishing around in his pocket for his wallet. Which isn’t there. His stomach sinks a little because wow, this was gonna be awkward. “Der?” Derek looks up from where he was counting money. “I uh- I think I left my wallet at home. Think you could cover this?”

“I swear you’re the most forgetful person ever. Yeah, I’ve got it.”

“Thanks. I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

Derek grunts in response as he counts out a few more dollars.

“Or how about…” Stiles pauses to gather up every ounce of nerve his 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones has to offer, “how about you let me take you here again next week. I’ll pay.”

Derek stares at him. He blinks once. Twice. He has that same unreadable expression on his face again. Stiles considers finding the nearest bridge he can throw himself off of.

After what seems like a million years, Derek says, “Like a…? You mean like…? Like a date?”

Oh yeah. Stiles was gonna need that bridge. His heart jackhammers in his chest, and he’s pretty sure Derek would be able to hear it even if he weren’t a werewolf.

“I mean, not if you don’t want to. No, yeah, not- not a big deal. I’ll uh- I’ll just pay you back tomorrow and then we’ll be good. Can we just pretend this didn’t happen?”

“No.”

“No… what?”

“No, let’s not pretend it didn’t happen. Let’s go on a date.”

Stiles’ eyes widen as he stares at Derek, his heart rabbiting for a much better reason this time. And if he isn’t mistaken, there’s a blush- an actual honest to god blush- creeping up under Derek’s stubble, and it was probably the cutest thing he’d ever seen. “Are you serious?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah. I mean, you were being serious, right?” Derek asks, sounding uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“Was I being serious? Dude, I’ve been flirting with you for two months!”

“Seriously?” Derek sounds genuinely surprised, in a way that makes Stiles want to both throttle and kiss him.

“Oh my god, Derek. I was right. For all your werewolf senses, you really can’t take a goddamn hint, can you?”

“What’re werewolf senses gonna do? You’re so jittery, your heartbeat is always fast around me.”

“My heartbeat is fast because I’m around you, dumbass!”

“Ooh. Dumbass. You’re right, you’re fantastic at flirting. I don’t know how I didn’t pick up on it sooner.”

Stiles rolls his eyes affectionately. “I refuse to be offended by that,” he says, standing. Derek stands too, dropping their money on the table. “I’m going on a date with Derek Hale,” Stiles hums happily.

“Am I gonna regret this?” Derek groans. 

“Wouldn’t be a date with Stiles Stilinski if you didn’t,” Stiles grins, and it’s so infectious that Derek can’t help but smile too.

“C’mon,” Derek says, shyly lacing his fingers through Stiles’. Stiles can practically feel electricity zing through him at the touch.

As they head out the door, Stiles laughs a little, and Derek says, “What?”

“Nothing,” Stiles says casually. “Just wondering who’s gonna break it to that waitress.”

Derek shoves his arm, but can’t help but laugh too.

He’s pretty sure he won’t regret this.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to drop me a prompt or just say hi on tumblr (ghostargents)! Comments and kudos and always appreciated<3


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